


lingering traces

by faith_missingawae



Series: we have an understanding, you and i [3]
Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Character Study, Communication, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, Nightmares, Nonverbal Communication, Shirbert, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faith_missingawae/pseuds/faith_missingawae
Summary: Anne Shirley Cuthbert and Gilbert John Blythe had suffered more hardships and loss than most of their townsfolk could ever handle.While they were able to keep those thoughts at bay for the most part; things are different at night.A study of hurt but also of love and comfort.ori make anne and gilbert cry a lot in the name of analyzing and giving my take on their deepest fears and insecurities
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Series: we have an understanding, you and i [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937464
Comments: 27
Kudos: 44





	1. the fear keeps me up at night

**Author's Note:**

> don't say i didn't warn you(?)
> 
> also hoping that this isn't as terrible as i think it is

**Warning:** Slight spoilers if you choose to watch it.

In case the summary sucks (it's probably really vague lol) basically this edit by huffleavonlea (@huffleron on twitter) sums up this fic really well

(tysm again, ily <3)

Despite it having been a while since Anne had been anywhere that absolute nightmare of a place that was ironically called an asylum, her night terrors had not deemed it enough time to let her be in peace.

It was a heartbreaking realization, but deep down, Anne supposed they never really would.

It had started back in the asylum itself, her darkest fears and her overactive imagination joining forces to make her endure horrors that no one ever should have to endure.

The girls were cruel, yes, sometimes horrifically so, but Anne’s nightmares managed to combine the cruel nature of the girls there with the willingness to do anything to make her shut up, to make her stop talking, sometimes to even make her stop existing.

When these nightmares had first started to plague Anne, she would scream and thrash like she was being tortured, which in a way she very much was. However, it didn’t go unnoticed for long as everyone started to become aware of Anne’s nightmares, as sometimes her screams were so loud they woke up half the establishment.

In true asylum fashion, they punished her for it. The nuns _and_ the girls.

Anne then made a vow to herself, that no matter what happened, she would never, ever show it outward.

And for the most part, she was able to keep it. No matter how bad the nightmare got, no matter how much the girls hurt her, Anne Shirley Cuthbert never made a sound.

She would weep silently, biting her lip so much that she kept drawing blood but she didn’t dare let out a noise in fear of the repercussions.

Even after moving to Green Gables, Anne still had nightmares, albeit less frequent

Maybe it was because her fears had changed, or maybe whatever deity that kept giving her these dreams deemed her previous ones not realistic enough but Anne’s nightmares started changing

Before, it was about the girls and being unloved her entire life. Now it was being abandoned by the ones she loved without a second thought.

Matthew, Marilla, Diana, Cole, Jerry, even Sebastian, Mary and Gilbert sometimes; her mind seemed to have an infinite number of scenarios to inflict her with, each one designed in a way to achieve maximum impact.

Anne, true to her word, would try to keep all her emotions in her. But she was human after all, and sometimes they managed to spill out of her.

She would let out a choked sob as her eyes flitted frantically under her eyelids, and would move around in her bed as if she was struggling against a dark force pinning her to it.

Once it got so bad she almost screamed again, thanks to the specifically horrifying dream she had of Matthew dying and then Marilla abandoning her as a result.

Anne knew there was no chance her adoptive mother would ever do that to her, that they’d gone through too much together for that to ever happen.

However, her mind had managed to fetch the dying wisps of a fear she had possessed, and then proceeded to revive it, only because some cruel part of her wanted to batter her spirit into the ground.

Marilla found her like this one night, when she had been unable to sleep and had thought of checking up on Anne, something she had started to do on days sleep eluded her.

She was horrified when she opened the door to see Anne moving around in her bed and letting out choked whimpers as she tried to keep her sobs silent.

“Anne!” Marilla almost dropped the candle she was dropping in her hurry to get to her adoptive daughter, and she sat on Anne’s bed smoothening her hair away from her face.

“I promise I won’t be a burden,” Anne kept whispering over and over as fresh tears leaked out of her eyes.

“Anne,” Marilla tried again softly, gently shaking Anne’s shoulders to try to help the girl from her nightmare

“Please don’t send me back there. _Please,_ ” Anne let out a choked sound that was somewhere between a wail and sob, her throat straining as she tried her hardest to not let it past her lips

“Anne!” Marilla almost raised her voice herself; the worry she had for Anne was clouding her no nonsense practicality.

Marilla’s voice combined with the gentle shaking of her shoulders finally woke Anne up.

“Marilla?” the redhead asked weakly, opening her eyes to see her adoptive mother’s anguished face.

“Dear child, what happened?” Marilla asked, wiping Anne’s tears away gently

Anne almost broke down again at the gesture of compassion.

“I had a bad dream,” she started saying, her voice thick.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Marilla asked, rather awkwardly.

She cared about Anne, but Marilla was far out of her depth that she had ever been.

Anne nodded, swallowing.

“In the dream, Matthew’s heart failed, and this time he didn’t recover,” Anne whispered, her eyes haunted at all she had seen.

Marilla didn’t say anything, her eyes widening at the thought.

She lightly squeezed Anne’s shoulder in reassurance.

“It was _horrible_ , Marilla. He wasn’t with us anymore, and there was this _emptiness_ in the house that didn’t go no matter what, and then-” Anne stopped talking, trying to compose herself.

“Dear girl, what happened that shook you up more than Matthew’s-” Marilla couldn’t say it either, the thought leaving a deep painful ache in her chest.

It was too soon.

Anne gulped, shutting her eyes closed to contain herself. When she finally opened them, her gaze was heartbroken.

“After a while, it was decided that I couldn’t stay at Green Gables anymore,” Anne said quietly, her gaze on the floor.

“Not stay at Green Gables?” Marilla asked incredulously. 

Even the thought of Anne leaving for college in the future had started to pain Marilla; she had grown to love this red-haired girl as her own daughter and she knew that she would never stand by and let anything bad happen to her.

What could she do if the pain was caused by her own mind?

“Fiddlesticks, as if I’d ever let that happen. Who was the one who decided that?” Marilla asked softly.

Anne didn’t say anything for a few moments and Marilla looked at her adoptive daughter in worry. 

“You did, Marilla.”

The words cut through to Marilla’s heart and she felt like she couldn’t breathe; the air had been stolen right out of her lungs. It pained her immensely that Anne still harboured the fear that Marilla didn’t see her as kin. Marilla knew her initial actions and subsequent mistakes were to blame.

Anne looked at her and let out a cry.

“I’m sorry Marilla. While I know that you would never do that; we have both gone through enough together to stick together when the going got rough but my mind just has this irrational fear that if things fall apart in a more drastic manner someday-”

‘ _ **Comfort**_ her,’ Marilla thought to herself sternly as Anne rambled on, trying to reassure her.

“Anne,” Marilla interrupted softly, her voice firm.

Anne kept quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Marilla said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I’m sorry that I haven’t shown how much I appreciate you, that your mind still fears something that should have been cleared a long time ago.”

Anne listened to Marilla intently, hanging on her every word as she tried to imprint in her mind.

“You **are** a Cuthbert, Anne. For better or for worse now. I wish I had made that clearer so that you’d not have to deal with-”

Anne threw her arms around Marilla, placing her head on her shoulder.

Marilla didn’t think too much before her own arms tightened around the trembling girl.

“It’s not your fault, Marilla. I have had night terrors for a long time now; I ought to have gotten used to them. Sometimes they just take me by surprise, is all,” Anne spoke fast in an attempt to placate Marilla’s worry but the older woman just looked at Anne in worry.

“A long time? So this isn’t the first?” 

Marilla felt more horrible than she already did. It was one thing to have an isolated nightmare but another to keep having them. She also mentally berated herself for not noticing it sooner.

“Well, yes,” Anne replied, hesitant. She looked at Marilla who just looked pained at her predicament.

“What do you dream about Anne?” Marilla asked softly, trying to not let the pain in her heart bleed into her words

“The asylum, mostly,” Anne replied, her tone far too nonchalant for the subject. “The girls and the nuns, their harshness knew no bounds.”

Marilla had an inkling that Anne might not want to revisit all her past experiences so she didn’t ask for more information, just kissed her on the head.

She had a feeling that Anne might need that, right then.

Anne sniffled, trying to find the words to continue.

“Once I came to Green Gables, the dreams have changed. While I still see the girls and I still remember all that they have done, most of my nightmares are about you and Matthew leaving me,” Anne spoke, her voice strained in her effort to not cry

“What about the houses you were in before?” Marilla asked before she could help it, mentally chastising herself after the words slipped out.

While Marilla didn’t know the entire story of what had happened to Anne, she had never wanted to ask Anne lest she had to relive it all over again, she did want to know how they had hurt Anne, if knowing that information meant that they could help Anne get over it.

“The Hammonds?” Anne asked, letting out a watery chuckle. “Fortunately for me, they were rather unimaginative. Mrs Hammond would call me useless and give me a slap and a baby in the same breath, and Mr Hammond mostly spoke with his belt. There isn’t much to work with there.”

Marilla’s heart clenched as Anne spoke, but it also chilled her how Anne was talking about her past like it was an amusing story

Marilla let out a sigh, not knowing how to proceed.

She finally decided that she could comfort her the way she knew best how. 

“Anne,” she called, making Anne meet her gaze.

Anne flattened her dry lips, looking at Marilla with wide eyes. “Yes, Marilla?”

“I want to say that you are in no way responsible for your experiences,” Marilla told her softly, her words more free in her worry to console her, “you do not and did not ever deserve them. While we can’t change what happened, we can promise you that Matthew and I will never leave you. Not if we can help it.”

“Do you understand?” Marilla finished, waiting with bated breath.

Anne nodded, tearing up a little.

“Anne? Are you crying again?” Marilla questioned her, worried.

Anne smiled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Technically, yes. However, these are tears of happiness, my dear Marilla.”

Marilla’s heart calmed a little at her reassurance. 

“Thank you for that,” Anne whispered, “I thought I was past believing what I was told most of my life, but sometimes I need to be reminded.”

Marilla kissed her on the forehead, relief blooming in her chest. “Matthew and I are here for that, even if we don’t always say it.”  
Anne smiled at her, kissing her on the cheek.

“I know.”

And she did.


	2. even sleep had seemed to abandon him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert Blythe might've looked like he had dealt with the loss of his father's death, but things were different when there was no one around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope whatever i was trying to achieve with this actually does get achieved

Gilbert Blythe had learnt to be a light sleeper early on in his life. 

Before his father’s illness had become too serious to ignore, he had been a kid who although didn’t sleep as deep as others, still took ample time to shake away the lure of it whenever he woke up.

But then his father had fallen sick, the last living member of his once large family and being able to wake up when his father needed something seemed like the least he could do for him.

Maybe it was that Gilbert still harbored guilt over his existence, considering that it was his existence that had brought about his mother’s demise and he didn’t know how to apologize for that fact.

It wasn’t that his father blamed him; John Blythe adored his youngest son with an intensity that only increased when he had to watch the rest of his family be put under the ground one by one in a spell of what had to be the worst tragedy ever for a family that had done nothing to deserve it, but Gilbert couldn’t help but feel like his existence was a curse that hurt everyone around him.

It was a rather dark thought for a child barely accustomed to his boyhood but as soon it came into existence it lingered.

John Blythe hadn’t meant to tell Gilbert about his mother’s death that early, he would’ve never done so if he had the possession of his senses right then.

But Gilbert, who had always been curious as a child, had asked him about his mother when his dad was grieving the loss of another child, his heart feeling as if it would crack with all the pain he was feeling.

So instead of batting away the boy until he got tired of asking and went on to ramble about something else, John told him briefly about his birth, his exhaustion weighing on his tone as well as his frame.

“Son, when you came into this world, it was time for your mother to leave it,” he told Gilbert who looked confused until the words dawned on him.

Although Gilbert hadn’t quite grasped the finality of death itself, he knew enough to know that his mother wasn’t there because he was.

That broke his heart.

“I-I’m sorry dad,” he ran into his father’s arms, hugging his torso as much as he could and trying not to cry.

“Why are you sorry son?” John asked, feeling guilty over his words.

Although he didn’t blame Gilbert for his wife’s death, he was acutely aware of Gilbert’s existence and how it tied to her absence, and in times where his emotions were haywire, the lines blurred.

“If I wasn’t here, then maybe mom would’ve been. She would’ve known what to do,” the boy answered frankly, sadness in his words.

“Gilbert,” John said firmly, his heartbreak over his lost family put aside as he focused on the last one he had left.

“Yeah?” Gilbert asked, looking at him and it broke John’s heart how much older than his years he already looked.

While Gilbert was a smart and earnest child, curious about anything and everything, he was still after everything, a child.

He deserved the childhood that had been snatched from him by the throes of tragedy.

“I miss your mother terribly,” John admitted honestly, knowing that Gilbert expected that from him. “However, I love you more than words can express so please don’t think I’d rather live in a world where you aren’t there.”

While Gilbert had more questions about his dad’s words, he saw the pain in the older Blythe’s expression and decided that he’d ask them at a better time. So he smiled at his father and swallowed the words at the tip of his tongue.

As he grew up, the implications of his birth started hitting him more intensely. While he believed that his father was being honest in telling him that he’d never want to live in a world without Gilbert in it, Gilbert also wondered what his father would choose if it came between him and his mother.

It was purely hypothetical as the choice had been made for him and John Blythe was left to pick up all the pieces but if it had been in his hands, would he have chosen a wife he loved with all his heart or a son who he couldn’t possibly be certain about?

Gilbert knew in a heartbeat that he’d switch places with his mother if it meant that his father would be happy. It was the least his father deserved after having to deal with so much loss so quickly.

It didn’t completely occur to him that it would’ve hurt his father in a different way if his mother had made it and he hadn’t but Gilbert wasn’t as sad as he could’ve been over the resolution his mind had come to.

As an effort to counter the bad luck his birth had brought into the household, a young Gilbert had promised himself that he’d try his absolute best to be nice and kind and never disappoint anyone, essentially trying to cancel out the tragedies that had happened.

It was a childish belief but as Gilbert was still one himself, just one who had gone through too much to retain all of his childish innocence, it stuck with him like childish fancies often do, subconsciously egging him during his later years.

Gilbert Blythe then proceeded to do just that. He made sure to be polite and kind to everyone and anyone he crossed paths with, took diligent care of his father when his health started failing, bit his tongue at the treacherous thoughts that tended to surface whenever he stayed behind to do farm work instead of playing like all the other boys did.

Although John Blythe couldn’t be prouder of how his son was turning out, it ached his soul to think that he was watching his son grow up faster than he should’ve, that he wouldn’t get to be a kid like the other boys did.

So he tried his best to not be the burden like he was starting to feel as his health weakened far too much to do any work.

John Blythe, as easy going as he was, also had a streak of stubbornness that his son seemed to inherit along with his finer qualities.

So it wasn’t all that surprising that both of them got into a small argument, one of the very few they had ever had, all because John felt too much of a burden to do anything and Gilbert didn’t want to be an ungrateful child and complain about taking over all the farm work had been harder than he let on.

One day when John was feeling particularly frustrated about his helplessness, he decided to do some work to help out Gilbert who had to be convinced to go to school.

However it had proven to be too much for his weakening heart, and a horrified Gilbert had come home to see his father wheezing with a hand on his heart, trying to use a wall as his support.

“Dad! What are you doing here?” Gilbert asked him, slowly helping him towards the house as his mind raced through all the reasons his dad might’ve had to come outside.

He had chopped enough wood for him to not need anymore, right? He had, and made his dad some food (even if it wasn’t all that great)

John Blythe didn’t say anything, until he was helped back into his bed by Gilbert, his face greying at the physical exertion.

“I just...wanted,” he was cut off by his own coughing, Gilbert immediately passing a glass of water into his hands.

He looked at his son, who was looking at him with worry, and felt even worse than he did already.

“I wanted to help, Gilbert,” his dad finally spoke, after having drunk some water and getting his coughing fits under some control.

“You don’t need to help, you need to rest,” Gilbert said immediately, looking at his dad closely.

John felt anger at his situation, at how helpless he was that he needed his young son to manage everything.

“Gilbert, you don’t understand what it feels like. To be so helpless,” John said quietly.

Gilbert listened to his words, but a stubborn expression had formed on his face. “That still doesn’t mean you should’ve done that when I was not here. What if something had happened to you?”

“I’m tired of being a burden to you son,” John finally snapped, although his voice was more tired than angry.

Gilbert froze, unable to comprehend that his father thought he’d ever see him as a burden.

“You’re my dad. How could you be anything else?” Gilbert asked simply, all his complaints and grievances at inconsequential things like running around with the other boys or swimming in the creek forgotten.

“Did I ever mention just how proud of you I am?” John muttered, trying to avoid thinking about Gilbert dealing with his possible absence.

He had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t make it through this, but he refused to acknowledge it as with that revelation came another one; if anything happened to him, Gilbert would be all alone in the world.

Gilbert seemed to have picked up something on his tone so he just looked at his father softly.

“Thanks, dad. You just focus on getting better, I’ll take care of the rest,” he said slowly, watching his father’s face for a reaction.  
John smiled, but it contained a hint of sadness.

“I’ll try my best.”

He hoped against hope that no matter what happened to him, Gilbert found the strength to move on.

“Say, son,” he said, a while later, after having thought of it for a while.

“What do you say about making a trip west? We can go visit your childhood home in Alberta for a while.”

-

The first night after his father’s death, Gilbert had a hard time sleeping.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep; in fact Gilbert had never been as exhausted as he had been then but something in him didn’t let him drift away into the comforting arms of obliviousness before cruelly yanking him back to reality.

The problem with reality was that it made him feel like his heart was cracking at the seams and there was an intense shooting pain in his temples as he struggled not to cry every time he remembered that his father was not there in the next room.

The house felt empty and lifeless; coldness seeping in from every corner as John Blythe’s absence was felt in its entirety.

Gilbert hadn’t expected the grief to hit as hard as it did, after all he had dealt with loss before when he had lost his mother and his siblings but he had been younger then.

A child who hadn’t grasped just how final death was.

There was also the fact that the few memories he had of everyone else couldn’t hold their own compared to just how many he had of his father, and it hurt just thinking about it.

Everything ached to the bone and Gilbert tossed around, trying to will his exhaustion into overcoming. He almost succeeded and would’ve fallen asleep if not for a creak that had him nearly jumping out of his bed, ready to go assist his father-

Oh that was right. His dad wasn’t there.

Gilbert cried then, letting it all out, all the pain and the fear, the empty house being his only witness.

He was heartbroken. He was hurt. He was terrified. He wasn’t sure what to do and there was so much.

Turned out that someone you love dying wasn’t the end of it, there were also all these arrangements you had to do to give them a proper send off

Gilbert really didn’t have anyone else to help him out with it, but he had seen his dad do it every time another sibling of his had left their life so he remembered enough to go through with it.

(The fact that he had made it into a guessing game where he tried to predict his dad’s next action back when he didn’t realize the meaning of it all made him want to vomit)

Besides, it was the small town of Avonlea where everyone knew everything about each other. The minister probably would visit him in the next few days if he didn’t go to him.

Then there were the other arrangements he had to do, the people he had to call on, the money he had to go take from the bank, all for sending the last member of his family off.

The words felt unfamiliar even though a small part of Gilbert had dreaded this happening to the point that it had tried to prepare himself for it. Every time it tried though, Gilbert felt himself stubbornly denying the mere possibility of anything happening to his dad except him getting better. After all, didn’t he deserve that?

Didn’t his father deserve a little bit of happiness after all the pain and loss he had dealt with? 

Didn’t Gilbert?

Gilbert had always tried to pay attention in church when he attended, as that was what his father had taught him but he couldn’t help but blame God for doing this to him.

He also blamed himself for not attending church the last few weeks because he worried over his father’s ailing health but it wasn’t like he had a choice was it? He wasn’t skipping to go play in a creek or have fun or anything. It was to be next to his dad who had grown weaker as time passed.

Since he had started thinking about all this, (he had never stopped but had managed to force it into a corner of his mind), all his exhaustion seemed to fade away except this ache that he felt to the bone.

“What is the point of this anyway?” Gilbert wondered aloud, pulling off his covers to take a walk. 

Maybe tiring himself out might help him in his attempt to sleep.

He stepped out of his room, moving quietly more out of habit than anything else, wearing his sweater to help with the cold.

He didn’t know what he was doing but he went around the entire house, his soft footfalls the only sound besides the one of snow falling outside. It never had occurred to him just how big the house felt, and he knew it was because of the lack of inhabitants.

He didn’t want to cry again so he just shoved that thought deep down and focused on the warm air that floated lazily out of his mouth whenever he exhaled.

Maybe it was on purpose but he kept his dad’s room the last stop for his excursion.

Gilbert paused when he reached the door, forgetting about how cold he had felt a few moments before as he rubbed his palms together, blowing on them to try to keep them warm.

When he opened the door, he felt pinpricks of pain as he tried to hold in his tears again.

Would it never stop hurting to think about his dad?

Gilbert felt a stab of sympathy for his father for all the times he had questioned him incessantly over his mother and siblings, now knowing a fraction of the pain his dad had gone through.

He looked into the room, still left exactly the same. He hadn’t the heart to actually clean it all up and remove the last traces of the past inhabitant.

Gilbert let out a shaky exhale, trying to force out the throbbing headache that was forming behind his eyes. 

He kept doing that until the throbbing managed to subside a little, and then he stepped inside the room, trying to rein his heart and his eyes looked over every nook and corner.

In that moment, sometime during the dead of the night as Gilbert Blythe stood in the middle of what used to be his father’s room, he came to a stark realization.

He was so tired of everything he could sleep forever but he knew he couldn’t.

He couldn’t stay there. Not in that empty house which never stopped reminding him of what he lost. It was too big for him; he had to leave.

-

Gilbert tried to convince himself that he hadn’t meant what he said that night.

He had been tired then; tired from all that had happened.

He hadn’t really meant it.

Had he?

He knew he was lying to himself, the bags under his eyes and the marks on his palms were proof of that. Gilbert just wasn’t ready to admit that he wanted to leave, that there seemed to be nothing left in Avonlea for him, and that every moment he spent there he wanted to crawl out of his skin to escape the constant reminder of his loneliness and grief.

The funeral had happened, and the turnout that it had hadn’t escaped Gilbert. It didn’t mean much to him either; all these people who showed up with their food and their condolences, pretending to care as they probed about his next actions.

He wasn’t daft; he knew that the farm was something valuable to the townsfolk in Avonlea especially since the sole owner was a grieving fifteen year old orphan. But that was precisely what made him so angry at everything. It felt like his father’s body had just been put into the grave before all these people came inquiring about the farm.  
It hurt knowing that no one really cared. No one really seemed to give a second thought about him past the customary funeral visit and food.

He knew it wasn’t completely right; that there were also people who had proven that they cared and others who tried but failed miserably.

He thought of Anne then; the dull ache in his heart prevented his spirit from rising like it usually did whenever he thought of the unique redhead.

It had taken him some time to calm down, but as soon as he had, he realized that she was trying to comfort him, in her own way. 

He didn’t know what had happened in Anne’s past, but considering that she was an orphan and if how she was treated by most of the people in Avonlea was anything to go by, he knew it couldn’t have been pretty.

She was right in the way that he had at least gotten to know his father but that logic did nothing to ease the hurt he felt in his bones.

How was being able to know someone considered lucky when you lost them too soon?

He felt bad about how he had reacted then; she really hadn’t meant any harm. It was just that seeing the then full house he had spent the last few nights alone in and the laughable idea that he was somehow lucky for having gotten what he did in life, had made him lose a little of the mask he had carefully placed on to control his emotions.

He didn’t extend the same courtesy towards Billy, and honestly he didn’t really regret that. Billy had grown up to be a horrible person to the people he thought was beneath him, and Gilbert was sick of having to listen to him disrespect Anne like that. He also remembered how the first time he met Anne, it looked like Billy was going to hurt her and something about that thought made him so tremendously angry.

Anne might have not known what to say to him, she might’ve not wanted to talk to him before or seemed to have some problem with him but he wouldn’t stand someone disrespecting her like she wasn’t nothing.

Just because Gilbert had an inkling of why people seemed to consider Anne in such a bad light, it didn’t mean that he understood it or even supported it.

As per the fast few days, Gilbert tried to fall asleep. This time he almost did fall asleep and was settling in, oblivious to the world and everything in it when a nightmare of his dad calling out for him and him not being there to respond woke him up.

Gilbert sat upright on the bed, trying to calm down with deep breaths. Despite only being able to recall the traces of the dream, he couldn’t shake off the pain and regret he had felt when he had finally realized what happened.

He remembered his conversation with Ms. Cuthbert that day and he couldn’t help but revisit a particular part of it.

Obligation can be a prison.

He was sure the older Cuthbert was talking about herself and her regret on not taking up on his father’s offer, but something about that phrase had struck him.

Gilbert felt it in his heart and he couldn’t deny it anymore.

He couldn’t stay there anymore.

He was trying to pretend like he could in a place that didn’t let him go one second without reminding him of the past.

In the morning, although Gilbert had decided he would leave, he would lie to himself that it was because of his dad’s vague direction to explore the world.

If anyone asked, he would say it was what his dad would’ve wanted until maybe he ended up believing it himself.

Maybe it was because his dad had wanted him to explore the vast world outside their little village, but Gilbert couldn’t also deny that he had a hard time breathing in that house, in that town.

While there were kind souls like the Cuthberts who seemed to really care about him without wanting anything in return, he knew he didn’t really have anyone there.

And he really didn’t want to be in this empty house all by himself.

-

He knew that he should be happier about coming back, all things considered.

He didn’t have to shove coal anymore, or be afraid of being caught on the upper deck and getting sent for latrine duty.

It had been a bit of a quick decision but also something that had been lingering in his mind a little ever since the idea of a future of healing people had popped up in his head.

Even though he had meant it when he wrote to Anne that he wouldn’t be returning indefinitely, after finally getting some sort of purpose in his seemingly aimless life, he knew he wanted to do whatever he could to achieve it.

It was pretty much the only thing he had going for him then.

Besides, he had Bash, someone who he was starting to trust as his own, despite them sharing no blood or even having known him that long.

During his year on the steamship, Bash had proven to be someone he could trust as a confidante, even if he teased Gilbert quite a bit.

He was the best person Gilbert could’ve chosen to return with, if he was being honest with himself.

However, despite all his reasons and convictions, Gilbert couldn’t help but stop at the sight of the place he was supposed to call home, the empty house reminding him everything in a split second.

While the ache of loss hadn’t completely left him yet, there was something about that house that made it flare up for a moment.

Gilbert gave himself a few seconds before putting the thought of it out of his mind, choosing to focus on a shivering Bash who was mumbling about Gilbert’s lackluster description skills.

Gilbert felt a small, but honest smile form on his face as he clapped Bash on the shoulder, glad to have him there with him

“Welcome home.”

Maybe he’d be able to see that house as home again.

-

Maybe it was the fact that Gilbert hadn’t slept on a proper bed for so long but he almost passed out like a rock as soon as his head hit the pillow. However, due to the absence of the strenuous labor he had dealt with on the ship, it didn’t take long for him to be startled awake by a nightmare in which he wasn’t able to save his father, even though Gilbert had a sinking feeling he could’ve.

Gilbert sighed, getting himself out of bed, hoping that he would be able to tire himself out again. He hoped that the nightmare was just a result from being back in the house again, much like how coming into his dad’s room for the first time had sent little pinpricks of pain into his heart.

He was quickly reminded of how much he had forgotten the little parts of the house after being away for so long, when he accidentally hit his hip at the corner of the table and bit back a curse word he had heard on the steamship.

He had a feeling his dad wouldn’t appreciate him using foul language.

Well it wasn’t like he was there to listen anyway, Gilbert thought bitterly for a second and then felt guilty about it.

It wasn’t that his dad had wanted to leave him; he had been taken away from him.

He probably would’ve stood there for a while, looking but not really seeing anything if it wasn’t for the man that came into the room he was, mumbling about the cold.

“Blythe? What are you doing awake in the middle of the night?” Bash’s tone was light; even if he sounded as tired as Gilbert felt.

Gilbert looked at Bash, his gaze a bit unfocused as his thoughts were still about his father. Bash seemed to notice something was off about the boy; his gaze softening as he came closer, pulling his blanket closer to him.

“Well, guess I am not the only one who has not been able to sleep in this cold,” Bash commented lightly, looking around.

Even if Gilbert was a little out of it, it didn’t take him long to notice that Bash was shivering. He wordlessly lit the fire that had gone out sometime earlier, feeling like he wouldn’t be able to sleep anytime soon as Bash sat at the table, rubbing his hands together to generate even a little bit of warmth.

“Blythe, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Bash finally spoke after a few beats of silence and Gilbert couldn’t help but grin at how accurate Bash had been without meaning to.

“Guess so,” Gilbert murmured, realizing that he had dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

He missed his father terribly but he was exhausted from having his dad’s absence infiltrate even in his dreams. 

Even if it didn’t happen everyday like it used to, the emotional turmoil he went through whenever he dreamt that he failed his father in some way always took some time to fade away.

“I miss my dad,” Gilbert finally said, quietly, a bit worried about Bash’s reaction to his unexpected admission,

Bash probably hadn’t expected this when he said that he wanted to come back with Gilbert to Avonlea.

“Well, it’s always been you two so it’s only understandable you do,” Bash said quietly and Gilbert exhaled in relief.

“Being back here, especially in winter, has been harder than I thought it would.” Gilbert stared at the fire, trying not to let his mind stray too far.

“Well Blythe, if it was a less gloomy situation I would’ve said I told you so. Winter is the devil’s season,” Bash quipped, even though his tone was hesitant.

Gilbert couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, feeling a little better.

“It’s your turn for new experiences, Bash. You showed me your home and now it’s my turn to,” Gilbert joked, shooting a humor filled glance at Bash.

Bash narrowed his eyes at him. “You tryna kill me here, are you?”

Gilbert laughed then; his darker thoughts settling deep inside his mind as he kept up the banter.

-

Gilbert had learned to cope with his nightmares after a while. Even if they lessened in frequency as the snow melted, he did have one every once a while that left a crushing feeling in his heart and a shooting pain in his temples.

It was the same. Someone he loved was hurt; ultimately taken away by the indifferent forces of death, only thing was that now he always woke up with a feeling there was something he could’ve done.

While he stayed in after bad dreams that faded from his mind as soon as he regained consciousness, some others shook him up so much that he couldn’t lay in bed and mull over them anymore; he had to get out and do something.

He learned to be quieter around the house so as to not awaken Bash, who had just started to get used to the cold and now slept soundly. While Bash’s presence the first night had certainly helped, he couldn’t and didn’t expect Bash to help with distracting him everytime he saw something.

So Gilbert found another distraction. He started studying whenever he couldn’t sleep. It started as a way to stop feeling so helpless after his dreams and his textbooks usually took up his full attention. 

By the time Mary had moved in, although Gilbert’s nightmares had lessened significantly, he had pretty much mastered moving around the house quietly and would sometimes end up asleep with his face in a textbook, when staying in his room got too overwhelming.

So it was to Mary’s astonishment when she came to the kitchen one day to see a fast asleep Gilbert with a paper stuck to his face.  
The candle he had been using to read had burned down to a stub and Mary figured it was because he had forgotten to blow it out in his exhaustion.

Mary recalled a conversation she had with both of them a few weeks prior, when she had wondered if there was anything that needed fixing as she had heard noises in the middle of the night.

Gilbert had frozen, shooting a quick glance at Bash who just smiled and clapped the younger boy’s shoulder.

“I apologise for not telling you sooner, but Blythe here is kind of a strange child. Goes on walks in the middle of the night sometimes.”

Gilbert had rolled his eyes, pushing Bash’s arm off his shoulder and apologising to Mary for his noise, both of them just starting to get more comfortable with each other.

Now Mary considered Gilbert like he was her younger brother, and she realized that something was plaguing him to the point that even sleep didn’t help.

Bash had filled Mary in a little about Gilbert’s past before meeting him, just mentioning that he had lost his entire family and didn’t really have anyone else in the world.

Mary shook his shoulder gently, not wanting to startle him too much.

She would’ve let him sleep in a bit more, but his sleeping position didn’t look all that comfortable and she needed to lay the table for breakfast sometime soon.

Gilbert opened his eyes slowly, a sheepish expression forming on his face as he saw Mary’s expression of amusement at his state.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sitting up and trying to calm his nest of messy curls. “I was just-”

“Your dedication to your academics is admirable Gilbert,” Mary commented lightly, not giving him room to be awkward about why he was asleep at the table instead of in his bed.

“Thanks, that’s one way to put it,” Gilbert muttered the last part and she smiled at him.

“Now get on up there and make yourself a little more presentable,” she teased him, gesturing at his things and his state.

Gilbert shot her a grateful smile, gathering all his books quickly and bounding up the stairs, ignoring Mary’s mutter at his recklessness.

He was too matured for his age but sometimes he was too much of a kid at the same time.

-

As the months progressed and the cold started to seep in, Gilbert found himself back to being woken up nearly every other night.

It was kind of amazing how his mind never tired of showing him practically the same thing over and over.

Thanks to the more frequent dreams, he had started to frequent the dinner table a lot more and Mary noticed, starting to leave blankets and candles for him out every night in case he ended up needing it.

He was grateful for the small gesture that spoke volumes to him, and would always return Mary’s understanding smile and nod at her in acknowledgement whenever he ended up using it.

He knew he was lucky to find two souls who cared about him despite not really sharing any blood whatsoever and he was eternally grateful for both of them

He might’ve lost the family he was born into but he had managed to find another one that he loved immensely and that knowledge helped Gilbert stay positive in moments where everything seemed bleak and unforgiving.

It helped more than he could ever express in words.


	3. ...but now i have you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Gilbert have that inevitable talk about Anne's past.

Even though Anne had hoped she’d grow out of her fear of abandonment, a small part of her had always whispered to her that she never would.

It wasn’t really something that she could just forget; the fear of being alone was just so paralyzing to her and the feeling was only compounded when she was forced to think about scenarios where she loved with all that she was but still still had to deal with being tossed aside.

It had taken her some time to truly believe that she could have love that was constant and not a flight of fancy as she felt that everyone who came into her life would just learn to hate her, given enough time with her.

Her nightmares had become direct manifestations of that; going from the girls mocking her to losing everyone she thought would stay because they all decided that she wasn’t worth staying for.

Even if Anne had learned that that wasn’t reality and that she was loved in a way that her younger self could have only hoped for back then; moments where she was reeling from the nightmare she had seen, she found it hard to remember that.

Even if they had reduced in number, the impact hadn’t and Anne hated that.

She didn’t want to live in fear about being left alone even if for a few moments.

After all, she was married now, to the love of her life. She had spent almost a decade with the Cuthberts who had considered sending her back to actually loving like she was their own. She had so many kindred spirits who understood her deeply; who loved her and let her know it every time they managed to meet in the midst of all their lives traipsing in various directions.

It was vexing, it was frustrating, it was genuinely terrifying how much power it still had over her.

He wanted to know why she had sobbed like her heart had been shattered, and like she would never know happiness again. He was concerned about what she’d seen and wanted to comfort her, silently promising to be there for her and comfort her no matter what.

They had promised themselves to each other after all.

She told him everything; including the parts that she couldn’t the last time

Maybe it was the earnestness in his half-hidden expression. Maybe it was the darkness of the room and the sad hope that he’d fall asleep, the incident never to be mentioned again. 

It was not to say that they hadn’t talked about Anne’s past before; they had to have that conversation when Gilbert had finally seen the faded scars on Anne’s back.

Until then they had danced around the subject, both acutely aware of it but only skimming the subject. The first time they had accidentally stumbled into it, while talking about past anecdotes, Anne had frozen when she realised that Gilbert reminiscing about his boyhood meant that she would have to look back at the first half of her life.

At that moment, despite everything she had learned since then, she didn’t want to talk about it. 

Gilbert seemed to sense her discomfort, or maybe it was just that evident on her face but he steered the conversation away, letting Anne sigh in relief.

That was the beginning of it, and everytime that they got anywhere too close to something Anne was discomforted with, Gilbert promptly changed track and Anne was thankful that he did so without any encouragement on her part.

Anne couldn’t admit all that had happened to her just yet because she still harbored an irrational fear that baring her soul in front of Gilbert would maybe end up in her scaring him away. She was old enough to be acutely aware that her childhood and all that she had gone through was far from the norm and she was terrified that Gilbert would see her differently for it.

She was sure that Gilbert wanted to know what troubled her so much, she saw it in his expression right before it disappeared and he went on to talk about something else. He seemed to genuinely respect her desire to leave it be and she loved him all the more for it. 

Instead he tried his best to be artful at changing conversations without missing a beat. He would throw the trajectory of the conversation, suddenly remembering an anecdote of his travels that Anne hadn’t known since then or something else entirely

All of this spared Anne from having to relieve her past before she was ready to.  
Despite it having been years since she had last seen or heard from her tormentors, the wounds still stung in her heart and soul.

While she didn’t have any trouble in believing her place with the Cuthbert family as anything less than permanent now, the girls and their words about her ending up unloved and unwanted by anyone hadn’t completely left her heart yet.

At the beginning of her and Gilbert’s courtship, she couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that warned her about the unlikeliness of it lasting. After all, he was adored and could have had anyone he could’ve wanted; Anne also had a tendency to push his buttons to a point where it would be understandable if he wanted someone easier to be with.

These thoughts plagued Anne for far too long, only being quenched momentarily when Gilbert would send her letters, keeping his promise from the last time they had seen each other.

But despite all the seemingly impossible odds and her own treacherous thoughts, they had made it.

Anne couldn’t have chosen a better life mate, as her younger self would say.

So when Gilbert traced the faded marks with the tips of his fingers, his gaze following them and Anne watched the conflicting emotions on his face, she knew that she could trust him with anything, including holding up his promise to spend the rest of his days with her, through all the trials and tribulations that came with life.

“What happened?” he asked softly, after finishing tracing his fingers over it, both with the expression of a medical practitioner and someone who was anguished over the thought of harm befalling someone they cared about.

Anne knew that if she didn’t answer, he might let it go because that was the kind of person he was. He would swallow all his questions and not say anything else. 

That stark realization made it easier for Anne to tell him. The words had flown freely from her lips, each word relieving a little of the weight that she wasn’t aware of. During it all, her gaze was fixed on her husband as he listened to her, gaze unblinking. 

His jaw clenched when she got to the part about Mr. Hammond and his belt. He let out a shaky sigh as she narrated the ins and outs of the various households she had ended up at, the trials and humiliations she had to face there and how they had always made her feel unworthy.

He said nothing throughout it all, choosing to instead listen and look at her in earnest, which gave Anne the strength to go on.

When she finished, heaving a deep sigh, Anne was almost fearful to look at Gilbert in fear of what he thought.

She had to face the consequences of her actions though, so she finally met his gaze.  
“Anne,” Gilbert breathed out, his voice full of pain. “My love.”

Anne bit her lip, watching his expression for clues to his thoughts.

Gilbert inhaled sharply, mulling over his words. “I’m sorry you had to go through things that no one deserves to go through. I’m sorry that these horrible people still have an effect on, despite it having been all this while. I’m not sure what to say here because I don’t think I have the words to describe the pain that I feel when I think about you alone, that you thought you were unworthy, that you hurt so deeply at a tender age.”

“Gilbert,” Anne interrupted quickly. He waited for her to speak, his next words stilling on his tongue.

“Do you see me differently? As someone to be pitied or weak or broken-” Anne blurted out, unable to help her worry.

She waited for his reaction with bated breath, both anticipating it and dreading it.

Despite the situation, Gilbert couldn’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Why would I ever see you differently, Anne?” Gilbert asked her, his words earnest.

“Well, it’s not the greatest childhood anecdote,” Anne said wryly, her worry dissipating. “It might not be what you envisioned when you asked me to marry you.”

“Anne,” Gilbert laughed then, touching his palm to her cheek. “I’ve always known you were different than most people; in fact I probably fell harder for you because you were such a breath of fresh air in Avonlea, the one place where it looked like nothing would ever change.”

Anne smiled at him, her relief palpable. Although she never really thought Gilbert would reject her for something she had no control over, she couldn’t help hearing the voices from the girls in the orphanage, all of them so sure that she’d never find anyone.

His next words sobered both of them. “This doesn’t make me see you differently. I’ve always thought you were strong. All this does is affirm your strength and love you more for how you’ve overcome it. Although it does pain me deeply that you still harbor all that pain and I don’t know how I can help ease it.”

Anne smiled, tearing up a little. “You’re helping me right now, darling. By listening and being there by my side as I try to heal.”

She kissed him deeply, her tears falling slowly. Gilbert kissed her back in earnest, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears gently, his every action to reassure her that he was staying, that he wouldn’t leave, that what they had would last.

While that day had liberated Anne in ways that she never had before, it had also been exhausting, having to relieve the darkest moments in her life.

And she hadn’t even recounted them all to Gilbert. She had glossed over her life at the orphanage, having no energy to dislodge that pain, which although had dulled over the years, still had its ability to pierce her when she was least expecting it.

So when she had one of her nightmares, one where she was abandoned by everyone she held dear, the older girls at the orphanage cackling at the sight of Anne sobbing her heart out as she stood at the doorstep of the orphanage, having nowhere else to go.

She didn’t remember how she had ended up there, how somehow absolutely everyone she loved and cared about just up and decided to not love her back. Her mind didn’t care either. When she was startled awake by an anguished Gilbert, all she could remember was the pain she had felt at the knowledge of being absolutely utterly alone in the world.

Along with the hurt, there was also fear. Even though Anne Shirley Cuthbert had gone through more than most people would’ve and still come out stronger on the other side for it, one of the few things that could still make her lose her composure was the asylum and all that it represented to her.

Maybe it was the fact that she had gone through all the humiliation at such a young age, maybe it was that she never truly stopped believing the words a bunch of hurt orphans had wielded against her as a way of exerting power in such a powerless existence.

Well, whatever it was, thinking about it almost split her head in two and she felt like she was inhaling glass.

While she tried to distinguish between fiction and reality, which was something that always took a little time right out of a night terror, she became aware of someone calling her name repeatedly and of hands that were smoothening back her sweat-plastered hair from her forehead.

He slowly came into focus like a developed imagine, the blurry outline condensing into a very solid, very panicked Gilbert Blythe.

When she saw him, Anne almost wept again, although this time it was with joy.

“You’re here,” she whispered and Gilbert’s eyebrows creased at her words.

“Of course I am. Where else would I be?” he replied, his voice soft.

Anne shrugged, only saying simply, “I’m not sure. In the dream you weren’t there, is all.”

Gilbert inhaled, his chest rising slowly to match his movements.

“Anne-girl, did you have another dream?” he asked her finally, his expression one of worry.

His words did it for her; Anne couldn’t hold it in anymore as her face crumpled and she flung her hands around Gilbert, burying her face in his chest, her tears staining his shirt.

Gilbert tightened his arms around her, kissing her on her head as he moved his hands in small circles, trying to soothe her.

They stayed like that for a while, until Anne’s sobs started slowing and she became acutely aware of just how much of a hold her past had on her and she couldn’t help but wonder if it would ever release her hold on her.

When she finally was able to stop crying, she wondered belatedly how she was supposed to explain to the love of her life that she had the same fear since she was a gangly child. So she didn’t immediately leave the circle of his arms, a place that she had started to associate with safety and comfort.

Gilbert on his part, waited patiently for his wife to gather herself, knowing that she would talk to him whenever she was ready and even if she didn’t right then, she would sometime later.

“I dreamed about the asylum,” Anne finally mumbled, her cheek still pressed against the planes of Gilbert’s chest. 

Gilbert didn’t say anything, choosing instead of tuck another one of Anne’s wayward strands behind her ear, and kissing her on the forehead as a way to motion her to go on

Only if she wanted to though.

Anne screwed her eyes shut, the feeling of impending tears giving her a headache. “I had no one and nowhere to go to. So I went there and all of the memories came rushing back, like they had happened yesterday and I just-”

Anne let out a cry wanting to scream at everyone and everything

Hadn’t she gone through enough? Did those memories have to cloud all of her happy ones? Didn’t she deserve to be happy and be able to close that chapter of her life?

“Anne,” Gilbert finally spoke, unwinding his arms around her so that he could cup her cheek with his palm.

“Do you resent me?” Anne mumbled, the combined effort of trying to keep her tears at bay and the loss of sleep making her spill her darkest fears.

Gilbert kissed her on the forehead in response, his lips soft and lingering.

“You could rip my heart out of my chest, and I still wouldn’t stop loving you Anne,” he admitted finally, his gaze soft as he pulled back to look at her.

Anne sighed. “But how? You had been nothing but caring and polite for the first few years we knew each other, I was anything but in response. Even now, when you’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that you love me, we are married after all which just is the highest level of commitment we can do, how do you not feel hurt when I still question your love towards me-”

“I don’t anymore because I know it’s just the voice in your head that can’t believe this is happening and so it waits for the other shoe to drop,” Gilbert answered promptly, smiling sadly.

“Anymore?” Anne asked, her heart close to breaking. The thought of Gilbert being heartbroken over her supposed refusal to trust him was as devastating as an actual nightmare.

“Anne,” Gilbert said firmly, noticing her expression. “Please don’t jump to conclusions. This one's on me and my fears; you aren’t responsible the way you think you are.”

“Okay,” Anne replied, relief washing over her. “I don’t know what I’d do if it turned out that I ever caused you doubt on how much love I have for you, Gilbert Blythe.”

Gilbert smiled then, stroking her cheek. “Anne-girl, I was the fool who had the gall to question your feelings for me right after we had abandoned all sense of propriety, considering that we weren’t even in a courtship during that time. It’s not you, I promise.”

Anne blushed, remembering the kiss at the steps of her boardinghouse, and the subsequent ones after that definitely wasn’t proper.

It also made her sad to think that Gilbert had his own demons to battle with and they had convinced him that he’d had nothing to offer the world.

Gilbert’s expression had turned contemplating while she had been reminiscing about them and the early years of their courtship, a period of giddy bliss for both of them despite the challenges, right after all that heartbreak and pain that had ensued due to their stubbornness and inability to communicate properly. 

“Anne?” Gilbert asked, his tone hesitant. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” he questioned her, his expression sober.

Or would you rather not?

It was Gilbert, and he always gave her a choice. 

Anne ignored the feeling of fullness she had and nodded.

“Can we lie down now?” she whispered timidly, realizing that she didn’t have the strength to carry out the conversation while sitting up and half in Gilbert’s lap.

She was also worried that his muscles were cramping, thanks to the awkward position they were held in.

“Of course,” Gilbert replied, earnest as always as they separated, both of them feeling the absence of the other’s warmth.

They lied back down, and Anne exhaled trying to remind herself that Gilbert loved her, that he had proposed to her, that they had both promised their love towards the other under the banner of holy matrimony.

There wasn’t any getting out of it now, Anne thought to herself dryly.

So even though she had seeds of persistent doubt that this would be it, that her childhood fear having such a grip on her would be what finally led Gilbert to regret their marriage, she told him the things she couldn’t the last time they had talked about her past.

While finally airing out the entirety of it with Gilbert didn’t feel like everything would be resolved, the feeling of having those words leave her mouth was cathartic in a way she had never experienced before. 

When she finally finished speaking, her voice hoarse from the amount of talking that she had done without a break as she had just wanted to get it over with, she exhaled before meeting Gilbert’s gaze.

During the entire ordeal, she had resolutely fixed her eyes on his chin, even though she felt his intent gaze on her, prompting her to keep going.

It was the moment of truth, Anne thought to herself and met Gilbert’s expression head on, which although it was half hidden in the darkness, was so full of emotion it almost overwhelmed her.

Despite it all, she couldn’t tear herself away from it, watching and deciphering all the emotions that Gilbert was conveying through his eyes, which was something she had come to realise he was very good at.

She almost whimpered with relief when she saw that the loving look that Gilbert had always reserved for her was still there, it was just overshadowed with worry for her and pain for her troubles.

Maybe she had let out a sound, because Gilbert started moving closer to her, slow in his movements as he wanted to give her ample time to pull back if she wanted to. 

Anne nodded at his silent question, shutting her eyes as they both leaned foreheads, so close their breaths mingled.

“I love you,” Gilbert whispered, his voice quiet even though it was just them in the house. “I have loved you for most of my life, and I plan to keep loving you until the day that death separates me from you. There is very little that would change that unshakable truth, no matter what that voice in your head says.”

“I love you, Gilbert Blythe. I don’t have the words to express how much I love and appreciate you and your existence, and the fact that you chose me to spend the rest of your days with, and that you keep choosing me after, even after knowing all that I’ve been through and the effect it has on me.”

Although it had been Anne who first moved to kiss him the last time, now Gilbert was the one who crossed the small gap between them, his lips soft and reassuring.

Anne tried her best but she couldn’t help it as a few tears slipped out, and she started to laugh against his lips as she realized how much he meant what he said.

Gilbert Blythe had seen Anne Shirley Cuthbert at her absolute worst, and he still loved her unflinching in his certainty. 

Gilbert pulled back for a few moments, his smile matching Anne’s as he teared up a little himself.

“I admire your strength, Anne,” Gilbert murmured, honesty and awe in his words and tone.

“And I, your patience,” Anne replied, kissing him again.

She didn’t need anymore words of reassurement from him; the fact that he still looked at her like she was the most beautiful being in the universe and he was in awe that he was with her spoke multitudes.

They fell asleep wrapped up tightly in each other's arms, both exhausted after all the revelations and content with the knowledge that they would have more nights to fall asleep together and more mornings to wake up next to each other.

The only force that could separate Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley Cuthbert Blythe now was something as momentous as death itself.


	4. but she promised that she'd stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because you're older and wiser doesn't mean the fear of loss goes away so fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's only been like 4 days for you guys and maybe i should've posted earlier and spaced out updates by like a week or something but this is the culmination of a month's(?) worth of writing, give or take.
> 
> so i'm really hoping this is a fitting end to this fic.

Gilbert thought he’d gotten past it.

Maybe it was a little foolish but after a significant portion of time without really having any of those kinds of dreams, he had begun to hope that this would be it, that he’d finally be able to sleep without waking up with tear tracks on his cheeks.

It was not an enjoyable experience and he didn’t want to wake Anne due to his inability to sleep properly and then have to tell her about how much he feared about not being enough.

Gilbert had matured enough to realize that was one of the reasons he had wanted to go to the Sorbonne so badly, even if it had seemed impossible.

He hadn’t ever wanted to feel as useless as he had when Mary had fallen sick; not being able to say or do anything that would’ve comforted her let alone save her life.

Gilbert felt a stab of fleeting resentment towards himself when he also had realized that the Sorbonne had played a role when he was considering proposing to Winnie for a while.

Even if he hadn’t known that they could get him in there if they wanted to or that what he felt for her wasn’t really love; sometimes he couldn’t help but blame his impulsiveness during the entire thing.

He genuinely hadn’t thought the Roses would consider giving their daughter’s hand in marriage to him out of all people, and that too so quickly but apparently that was how courtships worked for them he supposed.

He hoped Winifred was doing alright, wherever she was.

Suffice to say, Gilbert had too many thoughts in his mind as he lay awake, all traces of sleep gone.

He had grown quite a lot from the lonely boy who had run away to avoid feeling the pain of his father’s death but he still harbored that fear deep in his heart, especially considering that Mary’s abrupt sickness had disrupted the feeling of safety and bliss that had blanketed their home, bustling with new life and found family.

He had known Mary only for a short period of time, but her loss had hit him hard; even if his grief over it was incomparable to Bash’s.

He remembered how she noticed that he was unable to sleep more and more as winter grew nearer and how she made him feel seen in her own way as she left out things she knew he would use.

While his sleeping pattern got more stabilized as time went by, Mary’s habit of keeping folded blankets for him didn’t and once when he went an entire month without having nightmares, she smiled at him happily the next day.

“You look like you’ve slept well,” she commented, her tone light.

Gilbert had played with the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling gratefully in response.

“Yes, it’s been better recently.”

It had all stopped when she had fallen sick.

Mary’s falling fatally ill had hurt Gilbert in a different way. While he may have not been Bash who was hurting over the inevitable loss of the love of his life and the mother of his child, something in him had broken as he realized that no matter how much he hunched over medical texts, he would still not be able to save the ones he loved if it came to that.

It had also formed a new fear in him, one that Gilbert was terrified of acknowledging on most nights, considering the realistic nature of it.

He started seeing a shift in his nightmares, from having to lose his family to being unable to save them and Gilbert almost always woke up from them sobbing as he had to watch another person he loved being put to rest; someone knowing that it was his fault.

It was irrational; it was abnormal but being aware of it did absolutely nothing whenever he woke up, still in the throes of the emotions he felt during it all.

He didn’t want to disturb Mary back when she was alive, her pangs of pain meaning that she was a light sleeper, so he would just stay in his bed and try to force all those thoughts out of his head, too tired to even study.

He tried to not let his thoughts stray much farther than that, knowing that thinking about Mary’s death and the subsequent emptiness that had been felt in every corner of the house and the grief emanating from Bash would only make it harder for him to calm himself down.

It was dark but Gilbert could just barely see the outline of Anne, who seemed to be having a better night than he did.

He was glad. She had some pretty terrifying dreams herself, some of her past and some of being abandoned and there was nothing that hurt Gilbert as much as seeing Anne in pain.

Being unable to do anything but watch on helplessly only added to the pain.

While Anne had been pretty clear about how he helped her by being there, Gilbert couldn’t help but feel useless.

Maybe it was that he was prone to the darker whispers of his mind but Gilbert then thought about for the period of time where he had felt like he wouldn’t be enough for Anne.

Even though he had never expected her to return his love, and it had made him ecstatic to find out that Anne Shirley Cuthbert did in fact love him, during the early years of their courtship he was almost always doubtful of how deserving he was of her.

Anne was a romantic, she saw the beauty in everything and everyone and always seemed to have the right words to express it in the most eloquent of ways. While he had heard whispers about how homely she supposedly was, Anne had always been someone who Gilbert couldn’t take his eyes off.

She was also one of the smartest people he knew and was also passionate about others to the point that it could be considered almost a fault sometimes.

Gilbert on the other hand? While he did read as a result of his dad’s love of poetry and then some, he had nothing on her eloquence. He was more practical and saw things in a more literal sense, although he couldn’t help but notice the beauty around him.

In the beginning Gilbert had worried over the thought of Anne getting tired of his tendencies to be rather quietly expressive and moving on to find someone who fit more with her idea of a romantic ideal.

He wouldn’t even blame her if she had; Gilbert was also dealing with the guilt he felt about how he had handled his brief courtship with Winnie.

He knew that he had hurt both Anne and Winnie by his actions, although he had never ever intended to actually do that. He had dived into a world that moved too fast and left him reeling and somehow ended up hurting two people he cared about in the process.

Gilbert felt the need to seek out Anne then, as he had started to do whenever he felt sad which was a kind of an understatement for his state of mind right then.

He didn’t want to wake her up so he inched towards her slowly, trying to listen if she was disturbed by his movements. On hearing Anne’s steady breathing, Gilbert moved closer and hung his arm over her waist loosely, not wanting to constrict her movement.

They usually ended up sleeping in each other's arms but both of them tended to move around sometimes and usually ended up in very different positions than they had started in.

Gilbert felt calm settle in some deep part of his soul as soon as he was near enough Anne to hear her light snores as she slept on obliviously. He hunched a little to be able to rest his forehead lightly on the crook of her shoulder and shut his eyes, glad that despite his mistakes and her outbursts, they had gotten where they were.

They were married now; a fact that was new enough to make Gilbert a little breathless every time he remembered. Maybe the breathlessness over it would never wear off, but he was alright with that

However, although it didn’t take him too long to fall asleep, all thanks to his tiredness at his thought process going in circles, he wasn’t left in peace for long as something decided it was the perfect time to remind Gilbert about the very real possibility of losing Anne too.

Maybe it was that Anne and Gilbert had talked about children, something that both of them were looking forward to. Maybe it was that the thoughts of not being enough for Anne and feeling helpless and losing the few people he had left were still lingering in the back of his mind when he had finally fallen asleep.

Whatever it may have been didn’t really matter as Gilbert saw one of his deepest fears come to life in front of him.

It was one of those dreams that felt so real that you weren’t sure if it was real or not when you awoke. The problem was in the dream Gilbert had to watch as his wife, the love of his life, struggled to give birth to their child. 

It was a long, hard labor, Anne’s growing weaker as time passed. Gilbert, for his part, grew increasingly frantic as he noticed how complicated the situation was, only keeping himself together to be strong for Anne.

It was terrifying beyond anything Gilbert had ever seen, as it was not just one life he was worried about; it was two.

One was the most important person in his life in her own special way and the other was someone he had grown to love without even meeting them yet.

Gilbert couldn’t help but think about his naïve younger self, who had assumed that his dad would’ve fared any better if it had been him instead of his mother.

He was stubborn enough to want both his wife and his child to survive, not wanting to choose between who he’d rather see alive.

Gilbert didn’t really remember the ending of the dream, just that Anne hadn’t made it and that watching her be lowered into her final resting place sometime after had made him the numbest he had ever been but also sent such deep pangs of pain into his heart he wasn’t sure how he was still standing.

He had lost her. She had been in pain and despite all his medical knowledge and his experiences and his supposed expertise, he had been able to do nothing but stand and watch as she slipped away from his grasp little by little.

Only the Lord knew just how much it hurt.

It was this yawning ache in his chest but it also felt like a knife slicing through his soul. It had been a while since he had been in this much pain but there was also something different about this loss.

It was Anne. His beautiful, smart, vivacious, passionate Anne with an E, someone he had never thought he’d see cold, pale and lifeless so soon.

Gilbert didn’t realize he was crying until Anne wiped away his tears, trying to soothe him with words he couldn’t comprehend right then.

She had shaken him awake sometime during the entire ordeal, probably waking up from his sobs and Gilbert couldn’t help but feel bad that he had ruined her sleep.

Anne noticed that Gilbert had woken up and looked at him, biting her lip in worry.

“Sorry for waking you up, Anne-girl,” Gilbert whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

Anne looked at him confused. “It’s not your fault that you had a bad dream, so I’m not sure why you’re apologising for accidentally waking me up.”

Gilbert cracked a small smile, relief blooming in his chest as he realized that Anne wasn’t dead; she was right there with him.

“What happened?” Anne whispered, not wanting to shatter the cocoon they had seemed to burrow themselves in.

Gilbert inhaled, his breath shaky as he reminded himself that it was just a nightmare.

“You died,” he managed to utter, shutting his eyes to avoid tearing up anymore than he already had.

He didn’t want to worry her anymore than she already was, and that was already too much.

“Gilbert,” Anne said quietly, taking his face in her hands, her palms cold on his warm face.

He opened his eyes, just able to see her silhouette.

“I’m here and I plan to stay,” Anne added, her words slow and sincere.

“You can’t be sure of that,” Gilbert couldn’t help but retort. 

“Life is twisted, Anne. It takes away people in the blink of an eye. There is no telling if either of us will even be here tomorrow.”

“I know,” Anne said simply, seemingly hearing the anguish in his tone and knowing that any traces of anger he might’ve had in his tone wasn’t directed towards her, it was in reaction to what he had seen.

“I meant to say that you should know I’m stubborn and I plan to stay here and build a life with you as long as I possibly can,” Anne reiterated, and Gilbert couldn’t help but smile at her conviction.

She wasn’t making an empty promise or something impossible that she would inevitably have to be forced to break.

It was honest in the way Anne was; she would try her utmost and hope that was enough.

Gilbert couldn’t help but have his mood darkened as a part of his nightmare came to his mind. 

“In the dream, you died giving birth to our child.”

Anne inhaled sharply at his words before moving closer to him and wrapping her arms around his neck as she rested her head on his chest.

“I know you’re worried,” she finally whispered, taking her time to collect her thoughts.

“And because I know what happened to your mother, I can’t really lie and promise that everything will be fine for sure and certain.”

“But I can promise you that I will fight if it ever comes to that. I have plans to live a long, happy life and I will do my utmost to see them through to the end.”

Gilbert tightened his arms around her, the knot of worry on his chest loosening a little as he kissed the top of Anne’s head.

“I know. I just worry about you,” he murmured, resting his cheek lightly at the top of her head.

Anne laughed, a short nervous bout of laughter. “You’re the one who deals with sickness and death everyday and you worry about the teacher?”

Gilbert grinned, feeling his mood lighten just a little. 

“Being a doctor is precisely why I worry about you so much. There are so many things out of our control out there.”

Anne moved around until she was at face level with him.

“Well if you’re going to go with that line of thought, you should just stop living considering that nearly everything can kill you in a certain circumstance.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. 

“You know what I was talking about. And you choose to go with this?”

He knew Anne was grinning cheekily at him.

“It lightened the air, didn’t it?”

Gilbert couldn't help but agree with her.

“Yes, I can’t deny that.”

There was nothing else they could really say about the matter. Neither of them knew what was in store for them so all they could do was hope that it was only good things.

Besides, Gilbert was exhausted from giving all his fears a voice and it was easier to just laugh and joke around with Anne.

He realized that Anne had sensed that too. God, he loved her so much he wasn’t sure how he’d ever find the right words to express just how much he appreciated her.

“Hey,” Gilbert whispered, after a while when they had both talked a little more about inconsequential and random things, settling down to sleep again.

“Yes, love?” Anne asked, sounding a little sleepy.

“I love you,” Gilbert told her, wanting to say more but not sure how to.

She also needed to sleep and he didn’t want to keep her up anymore.

So he just quickly kissed her forehead, hoping that she would understand just how much he loved and appreciated her for everything that she was and everything she did.

“I love you,” Anne replied, moving forward a little to kiss him.

She told him everything that she needed to with that.

It didn’t take them long to fall asleep after that, both of them happy and content with the other’s presence in their lives.

The fear would always be there lurking, but there would also be love and a life together for as long as they could spend it, and something about that was comforting considering that a few years back, neither of them had expected that this was how their life would turn out. 

Considering that neither of them didn't have much to complain about the way things _had_ turned out, so it was probably safe to say that things had turned out well enough in the end. 

And right then, _**that**_ was all that mattered

basically this edit by huffleavonlea (@huffleron on twitter) sums it up for the most part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah.
> 
> that's it.
> 
> it's been a long ride and i couldn't have done without nicole tbh. nicole, thank you for always being ready to read whatever i wrote, no matter how long or short it was and being so thorough with it (your messages always made my day even if i did feel bad for always making you cry all the time)
> 
> also thank you may, bia, el and carito for helping me out with it. you really did help me to keep writing when i got really stressed about this and almost considered deleting it a couple times lol


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